


Orphee et Eurydice

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Inception, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	Orphee et Eurydice

"Let's talk money," Gabe says, before the client has finished taking off his coat.

The client blinks at him, taking a seat on the couch while Nate whisks the coat away. "You don't want to hear what I want you to do, first? Or, I don't know, exchange names?"

"You know who we are, or you wouldn't be here." Gabe hands him a notepad and pen, then settles back in his chair. "But it would be helpful to have something to call you, sure."

"Pete."

"I assume that's an alias."

"Assume whatever you want."

Alex comes in with a tray holding two cups of tea, which he places carefully on the table between them before stepping back and studying Pete for a moment. "How much do you weigh?"

Pete glances at Gabe, forehead wrinkling, and Gabe grins. "He can't wait to get you on a table and pump you full of magic juice."

"You have no respect for my work," Alex says, frowning at him.

"He's your chemist, then?" Pete asks softly. Gabe reaches for the tea to cover a flicker of surprise.

"You're familiar with the procedure."

Pete's mouth curves in a very slight smile. "Yes. I'm familiar."

"That'll save us a lot of time." Gabe takes a sip and nods at Alex, who gives him another wounded look and leaves the room. "But I really do prefer to talk money, first."

Pete nods and scribbles across the notepad, then tosses it onto the table. He wrote the number in block print large enough for Gabe to read without leaning forward, which is impressive considering how many zeroes it has.

"Do we need to talk any more than that?" Pete asks.

"No," Gabe says, taking another sip of tea and letting it burn his tongue to distract him from losing his composure. "No, I'd say we're hired."

"You don't want to know what I want you to do? You're just writing me a blank check on your skills?"

"For that much, we'll do anything you want."

"You don't even know if you _can_ do it, since you don't know what it is."

"We're very good, Mr. …Pete." Gabe smiles and crosses his legs, folding his hands over his knee. "The best in the business, which is why you came to us. You want a complicated extraction. We specialize in that."

Pete shakes his head slightly and reaches for his own tea. "It's not complicated."

"A basic extraction?" Gabe tilts his head. "Then you're massively overpaying us. Not that I'm complaining."

Pete takes a small sip, looking past Gabe at the far wall. "It's not an extraction."

"Inception, then? Well. In that case you're _not_ overpaying us."

"Not inception, either."

Gabe stares at him. "Not extraction, not inception. But those are the two options. Getting something out, or putting something in." Pete shrugs slightly. "Then what exactly is it you want us to do?"

Another one of those slight smiles. "Now don't you wish you'd asked me that first?"

Gabe glances over at the door, knowing the others are listening from the other side.

"You might as well call them in," Pete says, taking another sip of his tea and then taking an envelope from inside his jacket. "It really is very simple, I promise."

"Then why does it have that kind of price tag attached?"

"Because it's insanely unethical." Pete sets the envelope on the table and follows Gabe's gaze to the door. "Seriously, just call them in."

At some point the power in the room shifted very dramatically out from under Gabe's control, and he doesn't like the feeling at all. "I think I'd like to hear it myself first."

"You already accepted the job."

"Humor me."

Pete sets his cup aside and opens the envelope, taking out a collection of photographs and papers clipped together with a business card on top. He spreads them out across the table, turning the photos to face Gabe. They're all of the same man, a tall, thin guy with dark hair, pale skin, and a serious expression.

"The business card has his home and office addresses," Pete says. "I've broken down his typical daily routine for you as well."

Gabe picks up one of the pictures and studies it. Yeah, the guy's good-looking, but he doesn't recognize him as a celebrity, and there's no evidence of particular wealth. He's wearing t-shirts and jeans in all of the pictures, walking instead of driving, drinking chain coffee and talking on an ordinary cell phone. "I don't get it."

"I want in his head."

Gabe looks at him. "You want us to drug this guy, kidnap him, and let you into his head."

Pete's face is carefully blank and he gives a tiny shrug. "Yes."

"That is extremely fucking creepy."

"I said it was unethical."

"I don't care about unethical. But really. _Creepy_." He looks at the pictures again. "You want in his head, but you don't want to get anything out or put anything in."

Pete shifts a little in his chair. "That's right."

"You just want to go in there and…look around."

"Yes."

Gabe shakes his head. "You're lying."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"Because you can afford it." Gabe tosses the photos down on the table and drinks the rest of his tea. "And we've got to pay rent on this place. So yeah. We'll take you in."  
**  
Victoria doesn't look up from her drafting table, hand moving steadily over the paper as she sketches out the concept she'll build into a dream world. "What do you think he's really doing?"

"He's a bored, creepy rich guy," Nate says, watching Alex mix his chemicals. "Is it so hard to believe he wants to do creepy things to be less bored?"

"Maybe he's a dream-state addict." Alex frowns at the mixture and taps in another drop. "Just looking for a new experience."

"But why _this_ guy?" Victoria gestures vaguely toward the board where Ryland taped up the pictures and notes. "He's not all that special."

"The client disagrees," Gabe says. He has a three-ring binder in his lap that's an inch thick with Ryland's additional research on the target, which he has no intention of reading. "And he's paying us nicely to take his side, so let's stop asking stupid questions."

"He's paying us _more_ than nicely," Victoria corrects, "and that makes me want to ask _more_ questions."

"And they're not stupid," Ryland adds, stopping next to Gabe's chair and opening the binder to add a few more pages. "I want to know what he's really doing, too."

Gabe sighs and lets his head fall back. "It's so _obvious_ , though."

"Enlighten us, fearless leader." Nate snorts and takes the vial Alex is holding out to him, swirling it until the mixture changes color. "This ought to be good."

Gabe points at the pictures. "He's in love with the guy."

That makes them all pause for a minute. Not entirely jaded yet, then. That's kind of nice.

"I guess nothing says ‘I love you' like having you drugged and kidnapped, then going frolicking through your subconscious without your consent," Victoria says.

"Maybe he's insecure. Or maybe he's just a control freak. I don't give a shit about motivations." Gabe sets the binder aside and stands up, walking over to the board. "But think about it, you show up one day and introduce yourself to the person you're all into, and you're literally the man of their dreams. As in, they've dreamed about you. You can even deliberately do stuff you _did_ in their dream, since you orchestrate the whole thing." He touches the business card, tracing his fingers over the neat embossing that spells out _Michael James Way_. "Might not make them fall for you, but definitely gets you a first date."

"That's really, really creepy," Alex mutters, taking the vial back from Nate and capping it. "I don't think I want to share my potions with him."

"We've talked about calling them potions," Ryland says patiently, and Gabe waves his hand at him, cutting him off before they can manage to derail the moment.

"It's an easy job," he says. "And it's really good money. So let's quit asking questions and just get with the planning, okay?"

"The planning's pretty much set." Ryland folds his arms across his chest and sits on the arm of the chair Gabe abandoned, giving the ignored binder a slightly injured look. "I'm much better at figuring out a kidnapping than I thought I was. Which makes me a little uncomfortable, actually. Now I'm creepy too."

"I hate to break it to you, man, but you've been creepy from the moment you signed on the line," Nate says. "We all are."

There's another moment of silence, which finally Gabe has to break. "Why are you all _looking at me like that_?"

"No reason," Victoria sighs, reaching for another pencil. "No reason at all."  
**  
"You think there's something else he's up to?" Ryland asks quietly, while they sit in the idling van watching Michael Way buy his morning coffee.

"No, I'm pretty sure he's just having coffee and a muffin. Fuck. I want a muffin."

"I mean the client."

"Oh." Gabe nods and scribbles the time down on his notepad as Way walks off down the street. "Yeah, he's definitely got another motive going on. He was lying his short little pants off."

"And yet you took the job anyway."

"You saw that price tag, man. Only a crazy person would say no to that."

Ryland looks at him for a minute. "You make my life really difficult, you know."

Gabe refuses to return the look. He is so over being guilted by his team. "You love me. Now follow that mark."

"Stalking like the wind," Ryland sighs, putting the van in gear. "Seriously, though, it doesn't bug you at all that something could happen while we're under that we have no idea about or control over?"

"Whatever it is, it can't do any harm."

"He's rooting around in the guy's subconscious to try to make him fall in love. I'd say there's some pretty intense potential for harm there."

"I meant it can't do any harm to _us_."

"Oh, well." Ryland eases the van into traffic. "That's different, then. Forget I said anything."  
**  
Way keeps to a painfully regular schedule. On the one hand, that makes Gabe feel sorry for the guy; on the other, it makes his job a lot easier.

He and Ryland are waiting in the coffee shop, Ryland tapping away on his phone and Gabe gazing up at the ceiling like he just cannot believe he had to get moving this early. He's fairly pleased with his performance, honestly, even though no one shows any sign of appreciating it.

Way steps up to the counter and places his order, and Ryland tucks his phone back into his pocket. Time to begin the dance.

It's so easy. When Way steps toward the end of the counter to pick up his drink, Ryland bumps into him, distracting him just long enough for Gabe to pick up his own coffee and Way's, slip the drops into Way's, and turn around holding both with a puzzled expression. "Wait, one of these isn't mine," he says a little too loudly, drawing Way's attention back again. "It's got real milk and I drink soy. Anybody waiting for a--"

"It's mine," Way says, reaching for it and shooting Ryland an apologetic glance. "Sorry again, man. Clumsy."

Ryland gives him a smile that shows too many teeth. "No, it was all me. Enjoy your coffee."

"You too." Way heads for the door and Gabe drops his own coffee into the trash can, following him out and sticking with him all the way up the block. He can see the van from the corner of his eye, pacing them about fifteen yards back. He's very proud of his crew, both Nate's ability to keep steady pacing in this traffic and the way Ryland is clinging to the passenger-side door like a monkey. Best crew ever.

Way misses a step, stumbles, and Gabe moves in smoothly, catching him under the arms. "Easy," he murmurs, holding him up. "It's okay."

"What the fuck?" Way mutters, his words already slurring. Alex makes good drugs.

"It's okay," Gabe repeats, moving him easily over to the curb as Nate brings the van to a halt. "Just close your eyes and relax. Take a nap. Everything's just fine."

Ryland helps him maneuver Way into the back seat, then slams the door and they're off, following some kind of crosstown shortcut that only makes sense to Nate. "I applaud your getaway-driver skills," Gabe says, climbing up into the passenger seat. "I had no idea you were so good at this."

"I'm a jack of all trades," Nate says calmly. "You don't need the dream ones for this job, so I'm glad I can contribute something other than buying the beer."

Gabe squeezes his arm. "The beer is _really_ important."

"Tick-tock," Ryland says from the back. "We haven't got all day."

"Keep your pants on." Nate cuts across three lanes of traffic, makes an illegal right turn, and somehow they're in front of their own building. "We're cool."

"We'll take him up the freight elevator," Gabe says. "I'll get a hand truck."

"You can't move a human body on a hand truck," Ryland sighs. "Honestly."

"Well, this is why you're in charge of logistics, not me."

"Obviously. If you were in charge, we'd all be in jail by now. Grab his other arm. And a-one, and a-two, and a-three--"

They haul him out of the van and onto the elevator, while Nate takes the van around back to park. Gabe leans against the wall and wipes his forehead on his sleeve, glancing at Ryland.

"How are we doing?"

"Right on schedule, perfectly on point." Ryland checks Way's pulse and nods. "And he's right where we want him."

"Goddamn, we're good."

"Well, now you've probably jinxed it."

"Bite your tongue." The elevator dings and comes to a halt, and Gabe slings Way's arm over his shoulder again. "Let's do this."  
**  
Victoria answers the door on the second kick, raising her eyebrow until Gabe nods and then turning away to lock up again while they carry Way over to the couch. Alex is kneeling by the coffee table, humming softly to himself and setting up the PASIV.

The client is sitting in Gabe's chair.

"Out of my chair," Gabe says, settling Way on the couch. "Seriously, Alex, why did you let him touch my chair?"

"I'm busy," Alex murmurs.

"Victoria!"

"It doesn't matter, Gabe."

Pete's eyes are fixed on Way. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine," Gabe says, brushing his hands off and glaring at them all. "He's great. He is just about ready for you to slide into his head and rummage around like you're looking for loose change. Are _you_ ready?"

Pete nods, still staring at Way. "More than ready."

"Then go sit in _that_ chair." Gabe runs his hand through his hair, looking around the room. "Ready, Alex?"

Alex makes a final adjustment on the machine and nods. "All set. You, Victoria, and Pete get ninety minutes of real-world time."

"How are you three going to entertain yourselves while we're under?" Gabe slips his headphones on and sits, glancing over at Way again. His breathing is slow and steady, his face slack. Hopefully that means sweet dreams.

"Old-school Mario Kart," Nate says. "It's going to be awesome."

Victoria adjusts her own headphones and lies back, closing her eyes. "Just make sure someone's paying attention to us."

"You'll be fine," Ryland says. "Would I lie to you?"

Gabe rolls his eyes and turns his head away so he doesn't have to watch Alex slip the needles into their wrists. He is never going to get used to that part. Ever.

"And away we go," Ryland says, pressing the button. "Enjoy the ride."  
**  
Gabe had only seen Victoria's models of the skeleton of the dreamscape, so he could memorize the twists and turns that kept them in the closed loop. He hadn't realized that she was going to dress the bones up to create a world of glass. Silvery-blue mountains--or maybe they're buildings, since some of them have doors--and miles of obsidian stretching away under their feet, climbing and falling and reflecting them back at themselves as they walk along.

"Very pretty," he tells her, looking off a glass cliff at a jagged, broken valley.

"Thank you," she says. "I got the idea at that sculpture exhibit. You really should come with me one of these days. No reason we can't have a little culture in our lives, besides the work."

"Stop trying to give me homework."

"You're impossible." She flicks the end of his nose and turns to Pete. "What do you think?"

"It's amazing," he says, smiling. "I could stay here for years."

"No one's staying anywhere for years," Gabe says firmly, looking over his shoulder back the way they came. People are coming out of the mountain-buildings now, walking along the not-quite-a-street. Way's subconscious is populating things. That means he isn't brain-damaged, which is always a plus. "We don't joke about that in this line of work."

"My mistake." Pete tucks his hands in his pockets and moves closer to the edge of the cliff, staring down. "Where is he?"

"He's here." Victoria nods back toward the gathering of projections. "Probably back this way. He shouldn't be hard to find."

"You wouldn't think so," Pete murmurs, softly enough that Gabe barely catches it. A faint prickle of warning creeps up his spine, but Pete and Victoria are walking away.

The feeling gets worse as they start moving among the projections. They haven't been noticed yet, which is good; with any luck, Way's subconscious won't catch on until it's almost time to wake up. Dealing with aggressive projections is part of the job, but Gabe's never been able to shake the feeling that punching someone's brain cells is a little rude. Call him sensitive if you must.

Something's just _bothering_ him. He looks up and sees clouds drifting across the sky that had been perfect, pure blue when they arrived. Ugly clouds, gray and torn and moving fast as if driven by a stiff breeze.

"Victoria," he says, frowning, "why would you set it up to rain while we're here?"

She shoots him an odd look back over her shoulder. "I wouldn't. I didn't."

"Look at the clouds."

It's her turn to frown. "I didn't do that."

"He shouldn't be able to take control from you." Gabe looks down the street again. Now the projections are staring at them, faces blank and cold. "Fuck."

"Mikey," Pete says softly. "Mikey, where are you?"

Gabe turns slowly. "What was that?"

"We haven't found him yet."

"Not that part. The part where you used a nickname. For a guy you supposedly don't know." Pete starts to walk away, and Gabe grabs his arm, hauling him back. "You asshole, you withheld information."

Pete gives him a cold look and jerks his arm free. "Of course I withheld information. I paid you a hell of a lot of money to overlook the fact that I was withholding information, and if you couldn't tell that, then you're an idiot."

"You're all idiots."

Gabe knows what he's going to see, but he turns anyway. Way is standing in the middle of the street, no more than ten feet away, staring at them with the same icy expression as the projections lined up on either side of him.

"Get the fuck out of my head," Way says, his voice low and flat.

"Mikey," Pete says, taking a step toward him.

Way's head jerks a little, his expression twisting with something Gabe can't quite identify before he shakes his head slightly and steps back, letting the projections move past him and advance on the three of them.

Victoria glances at Gabe and tilts her head slightly to the left. Gabe remembers the models; if they go that way, they should be able to loop around and buy some time. He's strongly considering leaving Pete behind to get ripped to pieces by the projections.

But apparently Victoria's a softer touch, because she grabs Pete's sleeve and pulls him along as they start to run. Which on the one hand deprives Gabe of the pleasure of seeing him die, but on the other, it means that when they finally stop running, he gets to slam him up against the wall a few times.

"Ow," Pete groans. "Ow. Stop it."

"You know him. You _know_ him."

"Yes. I fucking know him. Let go of me."

Victoria crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a look that, in Gabe's opinion, is disproportionately more curious than angry. "But he doesn't know you."

"It's complicated."

"I don't care," Gabe says, shoving him against the wall again. "He knows how to defend himself. He figured us out in the first ten minutes, and he started messing with the dream itself. How the fuck…"

"Gabe," Victoria says. He looks over his shoulder at her, which gives Pete an opportunity to knee him in the groin, the little shit.

"Fuck."

Victoria ignores his pain. As usual. "Did Ryland research his family?"

"I have no idea what Ryland did or didn't do. I trust him to do his job." He rests his forehead against the glass and breathes deeply. "Why?"

"Does Way have a brother?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"I was asking Pete."

Gabe turns his head to look at Pete, who's standing with his arms around himself and glaring at his reflection in the glass.

"Yes," Pete says.

Victoria gestures grandly with both hands. "Well then."

Gabe sits down. "The first thing we do when we wake up is fire Ryland."

"What are you talking about?" Pete asks, shifting his glare to Gabe. "What does it matter if he has a brother?"

"Gerard Way," Victoria says slowly, enunciating the name with care, "is the most famous architect no one will work with."

"Why?"

"Because he builds nightmares," Gabe says, dragging himself to his feet again. "Really, sincerely fucked-up nightmares. And if he taught his brother how to defend his subconscious mind, the three of us are going to have a really not-fun rest of this job. And we should probably start running again now."  
**  
Victoria knows the layout best, and she drags them up one side and down another until they're all breathless and shaky. Gabe finally ducks into a cul-de-sac and waves at them both to stop, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"When we wake up," he says finally, squinting at Pete, "I'm going to kick your ass."

"Not if you want me to pay you the rest of your fee."

"Oh, you're going to pay us. And then I'm going to kick your ass."

Pete rolls his eyes and looks away, back in the direction that they came. "I need to talk to him. We should stop running."

"You can if you want to. The whole thing's hosed for us. I don't want anything to do with it."

Pete rubs his hands on his thighs. "I just need to talk to him."

"Why?" Victoria asks, leaning against the wall. "What's the story with you two?"

"It's complicated."

"Yeah, you said that already." Gabe slides down the wall and sits down hard, groaning a little. "So start at the beginning."

Pete shakes his head, brushing his hair back off his face. "The beginning's not relevant."

"Then start at the end."

"He was my boyfriend."

Gabe glances at Victoria. "Then why did you tell us he was a stranger, and why didn't he recognize you?"

Pete's mouth is pressed in a thin, tight line. "Someone made him forget me."

They're both quiet for a moment, until Gabe can't quite take it. "What does that mean?"

"Inception." Pete shrugs and takes a step down the path, then falls back again. "Someone put the idea in his head that he should forget me, and...he did."

"Who?" Victoria asks. "Why?"

"I don't know. I don't really care. I just want to make him remember."

Gabe nods slowly. "How are you going to do that? And why didn't you tell us this from the beginning?"

Pete shoots him an exasperated look. "For one thing, I didn't want you to ask this goddamn many questions."

"You hire me to fuck around in somebody's head, questions should be the least of your problems."

"You know what, why don't you just--"

"Boys," Victoria says wearily. "Try to focus."

Pete shakes his head and kicks at the wall. "I'm still in here _somewhere_. His memories of me. I just need to get him to find them."

"Well, you know, if you'd told us from the beginning, we could've built a box into the dream and had him open it and bam! There you'd be. But no, you decided to be withholding."

"There are boxes," Victoria says. "Or, well, chambers. Under the glass? Bubbles, really, but they act like…" She trails off at the look Gabe is giving her. "What? I always build that stuff in. Finding out the deep dark secrets is half the fun of this job. I like it." She frowns. "Oh, shit, I really am just as creepy as the rest of you."

"This is a heartwarming moment of bonding," Gabe says flatly. "Right before we get eaten by Gerard Way-style nightmare creatures. I bet they'll have tentacles."

"I don't like how everyone always says _nightmares_ ," comes Way's voice from behind them again. Sneaky motherfucker. Gabe almost falls turning to face him and his projections, lined up blocking the path to escape.

"My brother doesn't build nightmares," Way says, staring at them coldly. "He's just creative in a different way from most people. He has his own style. It really pisses me off how everybody acts like he's some kind of freak for it."

He pauses for a minute and looks at his projections. "I do kind of like the idea of tentacles, though."

The edges of the projections start to blur and elongate, and Gabe shuts his eyes tightly because he just _cannot deal with this_.

"Mikey," Pete says. "Mikey, listen to me."

Gabe opens one eye, because he's more curious to see how that goes over than he is grossed out by tentacles. Not by much, but a little. Way's face is twisted again, like he's in pain, his eyes averted from Pete. It makes sense, now; someone's subconscious fighting against itself is an awkward thing. Way's mind is pretty sure it doesn't want to admit that Pete can exist. It probably hurts. Hopefully the struggle will distract him from making tentacles.

"You should not talk," Way says, shaking his head hard. "I don't want you to talk."

"Mikey…"

"Stop it." Way gestures and the projections start forward, reaching for Pete with their oh holy hell _way too many arms._ Gabe shuts his eyes again.

Way is still talking. "Die and wake up and get the fuck out of my head."

"You know me, Mikey. Just…you just have to remember."

"Remember? I don't even want to look at you."

"Do something," Victoria hisses. Gabe assumes, or maybe just hopes, that she's talking to someone else. Except then she kicks him in the ribs, so apparently not.

" _You_ do something," he snaps. "I'm just killing time until we wake up, here."

"Kill time by being useful."

"I am fresh out of ideas, Victoria. If you have any, be my guest."

"All right," she says, and kicks him again. "Fine." He braces himself for another impact, but instead hears her footsteps moving away. "Break the glass, Mr. Way."

There's a moment of silence, which Gabe really hopes isn't "Victoria being tentacle'd," because he does not want to see that shit. And yet he opens his eyes anyway, just to check.

The projections have stopped, reaching for Victoria and Pete but not quite touching them.

"Why would I do that?" Way asks, rubbing his hands over his arms. "What happens?"

"You know," Victoria says patiently. "You find something you're hiding."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Maybe you are and you don't know it. It's worth a look, isn't it?"

Way shakes his head and takes a step back, his expression crumpling into pain again. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Please, Mikey," Pete says. "Do it."

"There won't be anything there."

"Then there's no risk, is there?" Pete's voice catches a little, not quite breaking, and Gabe watches Way's face, the flickers of emotion that cross it too quickly to evaluate before it smoothes into a blank mask again.

"Fine," he mutters, crossing over to the glass wall face. "Break the glass. Break the fucking glass."

He doesn't; he puts his hand against it and pushes through the surface like it's water. He bites his lip, concentrating, and Gabe almost holds his breath waiting to see what happens.

Way draws his hand out again, a photograph between his fingers. He looks down at it and his knees nearly give out, the wave of pain crossing his face enough that Gabe wants to look away.

"Mikey--" Pete says, stepping forward, but Way waves him off, still staring down at the picture in his hand. Whatever it is, whatever memory it's bringing up out of cold storage, it's something nearly overwhelming.

And apparently only the trigger point. The paper twists and blossoms in Way's hand, becoming dozens. They rise up around him like butterflies, and he looks through them, his eyes wide with horror and awe.

"Pete," he whispers.

Pete runs the rest of the way to him, past the projections like they aren't even there. Gabe does look away now, out of courtesy and relief. Mostly relief. Thank ridiculous stupid romantic love, it might spare them from the tentacle monsters.

"See?" Victoria slides down to sit next to him. "That wasn't that difficult at all, you big baby."

"Bite me." Gabe rests his head on her shoulder. "I want to wake up now."

"Soon."

"This was a weird job."

"Paid well, though."

"Oh yeah." He nods, rubbing his cheek against her jacket. "Next time remind me to do my damn homework, though, okay?"

"As if you'll listen."

"I might. You never know. I have amazing potential for personal growth, Victoria."

"Of course you do." She looks over at Pete and Way. "How do you think that's going to play out when we wake up?"

Gabe follows her gaze and shrugs. "Probably with extreme complications, and preferably far away from me."

"Fair enough." She's quiet for a moment, then takes a breath like she's going to say something else.

But suddenly the air is full of the bright, jarring notes of the Mario Kart theme, and it's almost time to go.  
**  
When they wake up, there's tea and cookies waiting, the whole process of shooting Way full of stimulants to counteract the sedatives, and the need to settle some Kart-related disputes before Ryland takes Pete off to the computer in the other room to finish transferring their money.

Gabe stands by the window, looking out at the street and eating his cookie. Weird job. Ultimately successful, though. And with the payment, he's going to buy a fucking Ferrari.

"A word?"

He looks over his shoulder and shrugs. "Go for it."

Way leans against the window next to him, smiling slightly. It's not a particularly pleasant smile, tight-lipped and cold. Gabe shoves more cookie in his mouth and refuses to react.

"Your new team is very bright and shiny. They have no idea what you and your old friends used to get up to, do they? Whole new style."

Gabe takes a careful breath. It's a small industry, and Way's tied in by family. Word gets around, that's all. A big reaction would just be giving him what he wants. "I don't know what you mean."

"Just talking." Way pushes off the window and brushes his hair back. "Thanks for giving me Pete back. Maybe someday I can return the favor."

Gabe stares at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said. Maybe I'll be able to give you back something you've forgotten."

Gabe shakes his head, forcing a smile. "I haven't forgotten anything."

This time Way gives him an even less pleasant smile, with sadness mixed into the chill. It makes Gabe's skin crawl, and a sharp prickle of fear climb up his spine. "Funny. That's what I thought, too."  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Orphee et Eurydice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/545762) by [inlovewithnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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